Stranded at night in a halfway house
Studying the curtains for something to do
I move room to room checking on the ill minded
Men dreaming.
Studying the curtains
Dancing in the wind (Where is it seeping from?)
Dancing like a woman from a Turkish dream.
I move room to room checking on the ill minded
Men dreaming, what do they dream of?

Out of the three rooms, two stand quiet,
But in one a police scanner sings in the night.
In one, he cannot sleep without visions of violence
Visiting his dreams.
I move room to room
Checking on the ill minded men dreaming
But find myself before his room, often,
Listening to the scanner and its violent tales.
Listening, I don't know why, perhaps boredom,
Of assaults on women taken in the night,
Cars slid out of highways, robberies and thefts,
(There's a difference?) Violence perpetrated
While we sleep through the dark,
All these tales I'd have missed
If I slept through the dark.
Violence is a kiss
That leaves a mark, bleeding,
And each loving caress adds another scratch.

Stranded at night in a halfway house
I moved room to room, but now I'm stuck
In front of this door, hooked on these tales,
That are all too real but still seem fake
(For my own sanity, I guess) and the ill minded men
Keep dreaming, and the curtains
Dance in the wind.

Poetry by Sameen
Read 305 times
Written on 2019-12-03 at 04:19

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A poem meant to be performed. Kudos!

jim The PoetBay support member heart!
Super-realism. I like it.